Front Burner: Ode to Robert Burns
Feb 8, 2012 Food events, Front Burner
Scotch quail eggs. Photos by Lindsey Nair l The Roanoke Times.
Today’s Front Burner column is about Burns Night, an annual celebration of the life and poetry of Robert Burns, Scotland’s most famous bard. If you enjoy Scottish culture but have never been to one of these suppers, I highly recommend it.
I wanted to offer a bit of information I did not get to fit into the column today, and share a couple of photos from the Red Hen event that would also not fit in print.
First, let me say that I regret not being able to attend both the Lexington event AND the Roanoke Burns Supper. The Roanoke event was one I had never heard about even after 5 years of covering the food beat. They don’t really advertise it because so many people are eager to attend that they don’t have to. I was told the tickets often sell out before the event. But you can get tickets by keeping tabs on the Scottish Foundation of the Virginia Highlands website here.
The event raised money for scholarships, too. Organizer Margaret Brall explains: “We give away 2 scholarships every year for piping & drumming: John L Harris Piping Scholarship & Myron White drumming scholarship. The 2 winners go to the Piping Centre in Winchester, VA and our Silent Auction raises the money each year so we can send these musicians to experience the various aspects of piping and drumming. Our scholarships are organized by Judy Gearing and our Silent Auction is organized by Charlene Hutcheson, without this we would not be able to send these musicians to the school. This year we raised over $3,000.”
The Red Hen restaurant in Lexington.
I hope the Red Hen will also have their event again next year, because I thought it was a success. The tickets were $50 apiece, with an extra $20 for whiskey and wine pairings, but the amount of food offered was extraordinary. It was served family-style, and in a couple of cases the dishes still had some food in them when they were taken away. I’m sure they’ll reassess the quantities, but I’ll bet customers will still get their money’s worth.
Pictured in this post are the Scotch quail eggs with a salad of frisee, radicchio and pomegranate seeds with a curry sauce. You’ll also see an exterior shot of the Red Hen, which is a quaint and cozy little local food restaurant.
And now, because I was an English major and I so adore literature and poetry, I want to share one of my very favorite Robert Burns poems (below the jump).
Have you ever attended a Burns Night supper? Did you like it?
Sweet Afton
Flow gently, sweet Afton! amang thy green braes,
Flow gently, I’ll sing thee a song in thy praise;
My Mary’s asleep by thy murmuring stream,
Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream.
Thou stockdove whose echo resounds thro’ the glen,
Ye wild whistling blackbirds in yon thorny den,
Thou green-crested lapwing thy screaming forbear,
I charge you, disturb not my slumbering Fair.
How lofty, sweet Afton, thy neighbouring hills,
Far mark’d with the courses of clear, winding rills;
There daily I wander as noon rises high,
My flocks and my Mary’s sweet cot in my eye.
How pleasant thy banks and green valleys below,
Where, wild in the woodlands, the primroses blow;
There oft, as mild Ev’ning weeps over the lea,
The sweet-scented birk shades my Mary and me.
Thy crystal stream, Afton, how lovely it glides,
And winds by the cot where my Mary resides;
How wanton thy waters her snowy feet lave,
As, gathering sweet flowerets, she stems thy clear wave.
Flow gently, sweet Afton, amang thy green braes,
Flow gently, sweet river, the theme of my lays;
My Mary’s asleep by thy murmuring stream,
Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream.
- Robert Burns
I did once attend a private celebration of Burns Night at a Scottish friend’s home. They had haggis that had been smuggled into the country (complete with the forbidden lungs and sheep’s stomach components), which was offal-ly good. I refuse to apologize for that pun.
The portion of the evening that I recall was very pleasant, replete with fine poetry and good whisky. But, as befitting my own Scots-Irish ancestry, the event culminated with waking up the next morning to the punchline of that old joke that goes, “I don’t know where you’ve been, lad, but I see you won first prize.”
Comment by Jeff — February 8, 2012 @ 11:39 am